Wednesday, February 16, 2011

In Denial: Living the Dream

(Irony.)

For what seems like thousands of years now, New York City has been a frigid perdition of white. Buffeted by a barrage of blizzards and ticket blitzes (as opposed to ticket blintzes, which are delicious) cycling life here has been as miserable as it has been alliterative. In fact, it's been so miserable that for the last few weeks I've had one of those new Mission Workshop designer hobo's bindles propped up next to my front door, and I have been waiting for that final straw that will send my bindle, my €20,000 fixie, and me permanently decamping for the secure paradise on Earth that is Beaverton, OR.

But then, a meh-racle! Suddenly, the snows did cease, and the temperatures did rise, and now the forecast now looks like this:

Sure, Monday the 21st looks kind of crappy, but as you can see things improve once again the following day:

This has transformed my bindle of despair into a man-purse of joy. In fact, like an overzealous groundhog or a hapless Cat 4 who misreads the lap cards and celebrates victory with five more to go, and even though we'll almost certainly get "Hot Karled" again by more foul weather soon, for my own mental health I've decided that it's already spring and Lob damn it I'm behaving accordingly:

Some people may need loud guitar noise produced by people with beards to get excited, but I find it's Lou Rawls who really makes me want to tear winter a new ****. Really "feeling" the multimedia presentation of that video, too:

That pussy's like, "Fuck winter."

Of course, now that it's spring and the streets are largely free of snowdrifts and members of the citizenry huddled in the slit bellies of stray pitbulls in a desperate attempt to stay warm, that means I can once again ride a bicycle with skinny tires. Therefore, I decided to treat myself to a brand-new road bike complete with all the features and buzzwords of today--that means things like crabon, and BB30, and ceramics. So I did what the pros do when they need new bikes, which is visit Craigslist. "Spare no expense and gimme the best you got!," I told my indifferent desk lamp since there was nobody else to talk to. Finally, I found what I was looking for:

It had everything:

One thing confused me though: When exactly did road bike cockpits get all gigantic? And why are the bars so high? Is this what Rivendells will look like in the year 2160 when Grant Petersen a cyborg?

This would not do. What's the point of all that delightful ceramic and crabon gewgawgery if you're going to ride it sitting bolt-upright with your arms stretched out in front of you like you're some Fred-tastic puppeteer or an old-timey sleepwalker?

Anyway, I asked my desk lamp if I should still buy it and I interpreted its complete lack of any response as an emphatic "No," and so I ultimately decided to stick with my own bike. Instead, I'd spend the money I saved on an "epic," like the Rapha ones I'd seen on the Internet--you know, the kind of ride that's so long and intense you've got to stop once in awhile and stare pensively at your "bidon," like this:

On group rides everywhere roadies speak in hushed tones about a rider so transcendently Fredly that he can will Cytomax from the bottle to his lips simply by staring at the nozzle through his precision optics. This is that Fred:

Next, I set about choosing a destination for my "epic," and I ultimately decided on Baffin Island, mostly because it has a mountain on it called Mount Odin, and really, what could be more "epic" than climbing Mount Odin?

(With a compact crank this climb should not pose much difficulty.)

Also, Iqaluit is widely known as the Portland of Nunavut, and I figured it would be a good place to stop and take pictures of myself insouciantly "enjoying" an espresso in a café in the gentrified part of town:

Unfortunately, though, two things forced me to abandon my plans. Firstly, it turns out that, even though companies like Best Made Co. and Base Camp X will sell you designer axes and $1,300 fire pits, they will not as of yet sell you an artisanal seal club. (I had no intention of actually clubbing any seals, but I figured if I was going to "make the scene" in Iqaluit I should at least look the part.)

Secondly, I consulted a popular search engine for cycling directions to Baffin Island and the thing came up bubkes:

Nevertheless, despite the lack of compensation, apparently their employees never want to leave:

Our internships are un-paid but are flexible and stimulating, so much so that we often find most of our interns never want to leave.

I guess if you're a liberal arts graduate with an ample trust fund then dealing with tedious matters like depositing paychecks and filing an income tax return are really little more than inconveniences anyway. (Not to mention more work for daddy's accountants.) Incidentally, you'll note in the above photo that Taylor the Unpaid Intern is making a rope ladder:

I'm sure you can climb that with total confidence, though I wonder if it will be offered for sale or if Taylor will keep it and use it to climb down from the roof of her parents' Hamptons home this summer after sneaking an American Spirit.

Honestly, this announcement seems entirely gratuitous--it's like Larry King announcing that he's old. I thought everybody already knew Armstrong was retiring after the Tour Down Under, and the only logical explanation I can come up with that he didn't like getting upstaged by Hosni Mubarak. In any case, now that he's re-re-retired, maybe he can spend more time puttering around in the garage, like in this video sent to me by my associate at rubbery light concern Knog:

Lastly, a reader in San Francisco has sent me this photo of a bicycle u-locked to a garbage can:

I, for one, would like to see less of the nekkid 'bent rider. Having found out that a face full of semen is not the correct way to wish a loved one a happy valentine's day only a little too late, I have sworn off porn. This does not help.

You poor Canadians and your town names. Then again, it could be worse. You could be referred to as the "sanitary napkin of the North Pole", or some such other nicety like the Snob places upon us down here in 'Merica.

When you get done touring in Dildo, you might visit her sister city, Penile,KY. Actually, it's just a wide spot in the road, as we say down here. I don't know how to do the link-thingy, but you can search for it with your favorite popular search engine mapping service.

Similar weather in Chicago, snob, except for the "light wintry mix" (which I think is actually a bagged salad) and the summery recumbent lass. Sad; I'm sure the city would welcome her with open arms. Still, today was the first time in 2 weeks I've been taller than the snow piles.

Yeah, Freds have super-powers. For example, I can:1. Cause things to snort derisively and leave just by looking at them.2. Ride in the same pair of ragg wool socks for 13.5 years.3. Track stand for several milliseconds. Yeah, you read that right, several.4. warm frost-bitten appendages using only my beard5. Install a triple on any modern road-bike with only 1.6 million posts to bikeforums.

Completely over dramatic sunset on west side today. Full moon over the wburg. Beautiful commute. Some dick on moped w/o pedals passes me I catch him at top. Nys plate #16CE30 on back of whitehard pack. Are these jetskis supposed to be tolerated? Help me out

Thanks for the info, posts like these are really good for keeping us in the picture, I come from florida originally and can understand what Lance is on about and I Pete is right on the nail with the current attitudes of most of the population these days. Keep on with the Biking Boys !

Snob, I hate to break the news, but your new bike does not have everything. The good people at Srampognolo are currently developing the mental-telepathy shifter, which will put your bike in whatever gear you concentrate on hard enough, with no physical connection between rider and cog. If you concentrate hard on the wrong thing, like naked recumbent weather girls, your bike morphs into a single-speed with flip-flop hub and fat tires.

Obviously, Lance is planning to do a Favre and re-come out of retirement. But to be an over-the-hill drama queen effectively, you need to make sure the maximum number of people know you're in retirement before coming out of it. Hence gratuitous announcements.

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!